O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.

The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.

I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.

I would fain die a dry death.

I had as lief have been myself alone.